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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750526">A Degenerate Triangle is Just a Line (So How Did it Become Both?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onelituli/pseuds/Onelituli'>Onelituli</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Shapes and Songs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Parenting, Character Death, Comfort/Angst, Developing Friendships, Families of Choice, Gen, Gods, Hurt, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Magic, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Prince Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Royalty, Some comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Tags May Change, Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, medieval fantasy-esque, some ancient/classical Greek words, tell me if I should add a tag, they are in a hardcore world</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:34:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onelituli/pseuds/Onelituli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world from long ago, two boys grow up.<br/>One, named for his skill and cunning, learns to wield the reigns of power.<br/>The other, named for his adventurous spirit and daring, learns what freedom is.<br/>They were happy.<br/>But nothing is ever as it seems, and their perfect world comes crashing down like it always does in these types of stories. Or was it always fractured and they just failed to notice?</p><p>The first is thought to be lost forever.<br/>With time, the other moves on.</p><p>Years pass and the duo is reunited against all odds.<br/>Only it’s not a duo anymore. </p><p>(Or: Techno, Phil, and Wilbur’s story before the events of “A Triangle is the Strongest Shape”)<br/>A companion piece to the other work, but can be read stand-alone</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Shapes and Songs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. anacrusis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anacrusis: noun.<br/>Upbeat. Referring to one or more notes or tones preceding the first downbeat of a musical phrase (also known as pick-up notes)<br/>Often act as a lead-in, coming before the start of a piece of music.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, hello! I’m here with another story!<br/>This is directly tied to my other WIP “A Triangle is the Strongest Shape” but both pieces can be read and enjoyed separately without sacrificing any understanding. This is the backstory for Phil and Techno in the same alternate universe as the other fic. Tags will be added if/when other characters show up.<br/>[explanation of degenerate shapes in endnotes]</p><p>Obligatory: this is based on the characters portrayed in the roleplaying within the dream SMP, not the actual creators. There will be no romantic relationships.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Welcome! You are here to witness our demise </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But we won’t go without a show </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Introduction to Blasterpiece </em>
</p><p>
  <em> By Bear Ghost </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Every story has a beginning, and beginnings are often the most important part of any story. </p><p> </p><p>Every hero has an origin. </p><p> </p><p>Every villain needs one too, though often one cannot tell the origin of a hero from that of a villain. </p><p> </p><p>To understand how an avalanche reached the bottom of a hill, one would need to see where and how it started. </p><p> </p><p>And this avalanche shall begin like many others.</p><p> </p><p>Once upon a time, a man was given the powers of a demi-god as a reward for his great skill. He was made an admin. He thought himself extraordinary, but you can probably tell how that went for him knowing that he is not the focus of this tale. </p><p> </p><p>The man was a King with a beautiful palace, a beautiful wife, and everything he could ever want. His power, however, was precariously balanced on his control of the populous who were growing more and more aware of his vices. </p><p> </p><p>He was obsessed with power, so interested in pursuing the shadow of absolute control that he lost the substance of what a ruler should be. Maybe he had been benevolent and kind once, but, as they say, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. When given the power of a god over one’s world, what is one supposed to do? Do those in power really have no choice but to succumb?</p><p> </p><p>But the man was not a fool. Unluckily for the people, the King was strong, cunning, and educated. He knew ways of manipulation to make sure he stayed in power. Blackmail, direct threats, even planned acts of goodness kept him in his seat; no method was too heinous for his moral system. All that mattered was staying in control. </p><p> </p><p>His wife was no better, or it was more correctly said that she was just as skilled as him in all the wrong ways. She excelled on the social side of ruling, even though she was automatically at a disadvantage from being a hybrid. See, the Queen was half piglin, and the world they ruled was mostly humans. But she took the adversity in stride and showed that nothing could keep her down. </p><p> </p><p>The Queen was gentle, the Queen was kind. The Queen was also a masterful puppeteer. But no one would want her strings attached to <em> them. </em> </p><p> </p><p>In time, the kingdom settled into apathetic stability. There had been a few minor revolts, but all had failed, so the people had deemed it necessary to grin and bear whatever came. </p><p> </p><p>Welcome to your utopia! You can have everything you want… just not freedom. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t that the King treated the people <em> badly- </em> because he didn’t. But there is so much more to a story than just its end. The means and intention matter too. He didn’t want to lead people, he wanted power, he wanted <em> followers. </em></p><p> </p><p>And that is what many were reduced to. Sheep, who simply followed the herd and were too oblivious to remember the truth. Of course, there were still some who saw the King as he truly was.</p><p> </p><p>But any people who actively saw what was wrong were limited to hushed whispers of “tyrant!” when no one was looking. </p><p> </p><p>Whenever they turned against the King, the Queen was there with reassurances and false promises. Everything was <em> just </em> good enough. <em> Just </em> enough that war didn’t break out in the streets.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, yeah. They also can’t leave. It was a locked Hardcore world.</p><p> </p><p>But why would they want to? They’re safe here. This server is their home.</p><p> </p><p>The King who protects them is strong and all-powerful, they have nothing to fear. </p><p> </p><p>After many years of this unstable stasis, the Queen and King had a child, whom they decided to raise as the King’s successor, training him in all the dark arts they had learned. That Prince could have been the greatest, most powerful dictator of all time. </p><p> </p><p>He was forged into the perfect weapon.</p><p> </p><p>...but this is not that story.</p><p> </p><p>Because this is the story of a clever Prince and his daring friend. </p><p> </p><p>A story of family, a <em> real </em> family. </p><p> </p><p>And a reminder that the family that matters the most is the one we choose. </p><p> </p><p>Blood <em> may </em> be thicker than water, but we are born with blood. Water, on the other hand, we must drink. For, anyone- no matter how strong they might be- dies without it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those of you who have read my other work, you may have noticed that the intro to this is very similar to the prologue of that one. Snazzy, right? If you haven’t read my other work, maybe check it out? I think it’s pretty cool, I guess :D</p><p>Anyway, thanks for reading! Kudos and bookmarks are always appreciated. Comments especially are loved from the bottom of my artist heart (I try to respond to all comments unless you add a little /whisper, then I will equally cherish your comment but not interact with it) </p><p>This one will be updated slower than “A Triangle is the Strongest Shape” as TSS is currently my main focus. This is also my excuse to write more Techno/Phil interactions because (as you know if you’ve read TSS) there are currently no interactions between them and probably won’t be for some time. </p><p>Finally, the definition of degenerate shapes in mathematics:<br/>A shape which breaks one of the fundamental criteria of said shape. For example, the triangle inequality states that if a triangle has side lengths of a, b, and c (c being the longest) then a+b&gt;c. Additionally, triangles must have positive angles that add up to 180 degrees.<br/>However, there is also the case of a triangle where a+b=c. Connecting these three sides into a “triangle” just forms a line segment (i.e. a stack of three lines). It also breaks the angle rule.<br/>Thus, this shape is called a “degenerate triangle”<br/>[important note: I am far from being an expert on this, so this is just my basic understanding. Feel free to discuss in the comments if you want. And yes, I am personally offended that a degenerate circle is just a point, what about it?] </p><p>What do degenerate triangles have to do with this story? Well, I guess you’ll find out…</p><p>Many thanks,<br/>Stay safe out there, friends o7</p><p>Tuli &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. overture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Overture: noun.<br/>an orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera, suite, play, oratorio, or other extended composition.<br/>In effect, the overture should set the proper mood for what’s to come.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE READ THESE WARNINGS:<br/>(the tags have changed to reflect these, so please read them too)<br/>Child abuse<br/>(specifically: using the cutting of hair as punishment and inflicting other injuries under the guise of “training”)<br/>Depictions of violence<br/>Suicidal thoughts</p><p>Greek used in this chapter is ancient/classical Greek which is different from modern Greek. Translations will sometimes appear in italics in the text, and all words will be glossed in the endnotes with a pronunciation guide.</p><p>AS A REMINDER: these are depictions of the characters, not the real people.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> You can crop and trim till all that's left is </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The essence of a presence that is feeling bereft </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thumbnail </em>
</p><p>
  <em> By Louie Zong </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Techno had known that his life was not his own since birth, but every once and a while fate decided to remind him, often in the cruelest ways. </p><p> </p><p>Lesson after lesson after lesson. First from his father, then from his mother, and finally from the kingdom. Do this, do that, never asking what he wanted. </p><p> </p><p>There was one time though. </p><p> </p><p>Techno remembers the first time his father had genuinely asked him what he wanted. He remembers the surprise he felt and the hope that had begun to blossom in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>He remembers feeling happy. </p><p> </p><p>He had smiled at his father and finally gave his own opinion, his mother beside him. </p><p> </p><p>He was just a child. A hopeful, foolish child. </p><p> </p><p>He had been <em> so </em> happy. </p><p> </p><p>Looking back, he knows that he should have paid more attention to the thoughtful expression that had crossed his father’s face and to the business-like way his mother had explained the tradition of long-hair amongst piglins. He should’ve known it could only bring more pain for him. </p><p> </p><p>Techno remembers the conversation well. </p><p> </p><p>His father had called him into his office one day and explained that Techno’s hair was getting quite long, too long for combat training to be effective. </p><p> </p><p>Panic. That had been all Techno had felt. He hadn’t known why at the time, but he was very possessive over his platinum blond hair. The same blond that his father had. Mother, with her own long, wiry brown hair, had spent hours training him in how to properly take care of it, and he had listened dutifully. But it was <em> his, </em> out of everything in this terrible prison of a castle, his hair had been something that was only his. He didn’t understand the feeling associated with that fact when he was younger, but, with time, came to understand that the feeling had been freedom. Being able to tend to his hair was a method of blessed self-expression that was terribly lacking in the rest of his life. </p><p> </p><p>He knew that he wouldn’t have convinced his father otherwise, so Techno had begun to accept the loss of his hair until his mother spoke up from the other side of the room. </p><p> </p><p>He remembers her words. Yes, long hair was dangerous for a warrior, but that was partially the point. Maintaining long hair while also being in frequent battles proved that the warrior was skilled enough to protect their hair. Even with a disadvantage, they were still able to come out on top. </p><p> </p><p>Father had nodded and considered his mother’s words. The king had turned to his son and asked for the first time ever, “what do you want to do?” Techno had responded with hesitant excitement that he wanted to keep growing his hair out. That had been when it had all gone wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Hope had flooded into his system as Techno heard his father agree that Techno could keep his long hair so far as he was able to defend it. He continued to explain that Techno’s trainers would be specially asked to target his hair and that he would need to prove himself worthy and... Techno wasn’t listening, he was too wrapped up in the first feeling of victory. Pure euphoria. </p><p> </p><p>He felt like he had succeeded, even though he had done almost nothing. </p><p> </p><p>Techno never let himself become that hopeful again. </p><p> </p><p>It was alright for a while, he would lose strands here and there for making dumb mistakes while sparring with the guards, but those were earned. He learned from them. </p><p> </p><p>It was alright until it wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>It had been a hot and sunny day in the middle of summer- not that the kingdom really got a summer in the first place- it was practically winter all year round considering that the temperature never got high enough to fully melt the snow that always seemed to cloak everything. Though, it had certainly felt warm to him. He had been mercilessly training since before dawn with heavy armor and thick clothing, and now it was almost noon. Sweat rubbed against his skin under the furs meant to keep him warm and errant hairs stuck to his forehead and neck. His hair hadn’t been down that day, though he knew that his father’s rule was that while training it <em> always </em> had to be down. </p><p> </p><p>It had been his one stipulation. </p><p> </p><p>Techno would be allowed to do whatever he wanted with his hair, as long as it was always down in combat training. Later, Techno realized it was supposed to have been demoralizing- or another one of his father’s sick tests- to lose his hair over and over again. Eventually, he would learn to fight if he wanted to keep it, and, gods, did Techno want to keep his hair. </p><p> </p><p>That day had been different because he had been training with Agatha, or Ἀγαθή, who was his father’s Captain of the guard. Out of all of his trainers, Agatha was his favorite. She was tough but was also the only one who seemed nice. It was a strange way to describe someone who consistently knocked him to the floor until he couldn’t move anymore, but as opposed to everyone else, she would actually help him back up. With her honey brown hair and contagious smile, Agatha was one of the only sources of joy he had found.</p><p> </p><p>He had known it was going to be warm, and Techno hated the itchy feeling of his hair on the back of his neck when it stuck onto sweat. In addition, he hadn’t slept well the previous night because of a few recurring nightmares that were just getting worse. Tried, stressed, and distracted, Techno had asked Agatha if he could keep his hair in its simple bun held against the back of his head by two golden hairpins. She had said yes, with a concerned glance at the bags under his eyes that he never forgot. Mother and father had never looked at him with that much care… well, ever. </p><p> </p><p>The King wasn’t supposed to be out in the courtyard that day watching. He shouldn’t have ever known because Techno knew Agatha would’ve kept his secret.</p><p> </p><p>They wore no armor now, later in the day, instead donning simple blue uniforms meant for keeping heat in, not for actually protecting the wearer. The sticks they had been sparring with that day were made of heavy, thick wood, and Techno’s arms were burning by the time they finished. It had been mostly strength training, there was no need to get an actual blade out, so when his father walked over swishing a rapier back and forth, Techno knew something was very wrong. </p><p> </p><p>He had been laughing at one of Agatha’s ironic remarks that she often made while trying to get him to relax. It had been an ongoing thing ever since she had discovered that he performed much better when he wasn’t tense. If he didn’t think too hard, Techno was a natural, so Agatha had made it her duty to figure out ways around the kid’s anxieties so that he would be relaxed. </p><p> </p><p>His laugh was abruptly cut short when Techno felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Agatha’s gentle face switch into one of practiced coldness. </p><p> </p><p>Agatha had inclined her head and said simply, “Your Majesty.”</p><p> </p><p>The King didn’t even look at Techno, but his grip on Techno’s shoulder never wavered. “What is Διάδοχος doing with his hair down?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Successor.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Techno felt himself flinch at the address. His father never used his real name, it was always successor, sword, servant, weapon, prince, and sometimes even son. But it was never, <em> never </em> Τέχνη. It was as if he wasn’t himself at all, just a tool towards another end. He was a successor to the crown, a sword to his country, a servant to his father, a weapon for anyone and everyone to use, a prince to the people… and a son. A son whose only job was being a son to his father, never to be a person of his own. He belonged to his father as a weapon belongs to a warrior. </p><p> </p><p>“We were only doing longsword strength training today,” Agatha explained, “there were no real blades involved, so when he asked-”</p><p> </p><p>“He asked?” The King’s voice had a dangerous edge. </p><p> </p><p>Regret flickered through Agatha’s eyes, but only for a second. “Yes, he asked to keep his hair up. Besides, it hardly would’ve changed-”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the principle, Captain, that matters here.”</p><p> </p><p>“I take full responsibility, it won’t happen again.” Techno saw her fingers held a slight tremor as she clasped them. </p><p> </p><p>The King finally turned to Techno with an unreadable expression on his face, “well, that doesn’t matter. You weren’t the one who asked.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. I thought-” Techno cut himself off, knowing the king wouldn’t listen to any excuses anyway. “Sorry,” he repeated.</p><p> </p><p>The hand that had remained on his shoulder finally was removed as the king used it instead to gently pat him on the back, “well, it’ll be a learning opportunity anyways. Now, get into a fighting stance.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” From both Techno and Agatha. </p><p> </p><p>The King motioned across the courtyard, “prepare to face me.” He waved the rapier around indifferently as if testing its weight. </p><p> </p><p>“With all due respect, Sire, we’ve just finished. He’s tired-”</p><p> </p><p>“All the better, then. Battle does not wait for someone to be well-rested.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno took his place across from his father, “I do not have a weapon to match-”</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t need it.” The King looked at the rather pathetic training stick clutched in Techno’s hands. “Agatha, would you please take the pins from Techno once he removes them and watch from the sidelines?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno looked back and forth between Agatha and his father, “what?”</p><p> </p><p>The King sighed, “the hairpins, Διάδοχος. We’re doing this correctly.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I don’t have a sword and you do.” Techno regretted the words almost immediately. </p><p> </p><p>“I know.” His father smiled. It appeared gentle, like the smile you might give a misbehaving child as you corrected their actions, but to Techno it was as sharp as the rapier still shining in the King’s grasp. </p><p> </p><p>Techno let the training stick lean against his leg while he slowly reached behind his head and removed the golden hairpins. He felt his hair cascade down to a little past his shoulder. It didn’t seem like much, but since the rule had been made, Techno had been able to defend his hair well enough it had grown an inch or so. It had been hard work, and Techno didn’t want to lose it, but he couldn’t help fearing that he was about to. </p><p> </p><p>As Agatha took the pins from him, she gently squeezed his hand. Something passed between them, though Techno knew not what. Pity? Fear? He wouldn’t go so far as to say love, but there had been something else in Agatha’s gaze as she retreated to the paved edge of the courtyard. </p><p> </p><p>“As soon as you’re ready.” The King’s stance was relaxed, but Techno saw something burning underneath that terrified him. </p><p> </p><p>Anger. </p><p> </p><p>His father was great at staying coldly controlled in every situation, so for an emotion to break past his mask- even <em> slightly- </em> it had to be a strong one. </p><p> </p><p>Techno took a breath and, lifting the stick again, said, “ready.”</p><p> </p><p>He was not ready; he didn’t even know what his plan was in this fight. He knew he couldn’t win, at best he hoped that he’d last long enough that his father would simply get bored. Sadly, the ideal case seemed to be that he might escape with a few scratches and a little less hair. Techno didn’t want to think of the worst-case scenario, but it would soon come to pass anyway. </p><p> </p><p>His father didn’t hesitate for a second before leaping forward and trying to hit Techno with the rapier. Techno knew how much of a disadvantage he was at, not only because of his lack of experience. </p><p> </p><p>The King was a great warrior with any weapon, so much so that Techno knew he wouldn’t likely beat him in his lifetime, but this fight was different. Rapiers were meant for quick moves because of their light-weight, however, they were also incredibly sharp. Meant for slashing and stabbing rather than pure brute force, rapiers were a blur in most duels, each opponent working fast with their own rapier to defend against each strike. </p><p> </p><p>The problem was, Techno didn’t have a rapier to defend himself. Instead, he had a clunky stick meant for two-handed strength training. By the time the stick was raised in defense, his father’s rapier was already somewhere else. </p><p> </p><p>Techno felt the sting of metal almost immediately with searing pain on his left forearm. Before he could even really process how much damage the first hit had done, he felt another slash on his right shoulder. The stick was so heavy, and Techno was already so tired and sore that the weapon moved as if through honey rather than air. His arms hurt, his legs hurt, he was tired and scared and he just wanted to leave. He wanted to go to bed. </p><p> </p><p>He started just trying to back away, another mistake. Techno felt his father’s rapier whistle past his right ear and felt a few strands of hair follow it. Warm blood started to flow from the other two wounds. </p><p> </p><p>This had happened before, he suddenly remembered. Although most training sessions were with a guard or Agatha or her husband Stephanos, his father often tested him too. Every single time he had ended up bloody and at death's door. He didn’t know why he had expected anything different <em> this </em> time. He didn’t know why he let this happen. It was a punishment but he didn’t know why he deserved it. He just did. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop!” Techno yelled, trying to push back his father with the stick, but felt it be whacked out of his hands. </p><p> </p><p>There was no response as Techno barely dodged a rapier to the stomach. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop!” Techno cried, tripping over a stray rock on the ground and falling. The rapier followed him and he felt another slash this time from his cheek to above his left ear, taking more hair with it. </p><p> </p><p>“Please!” One hopeful hand was thrust forward in a desperate plea for any release, but it only earned a slash of its own. His other arm was in front of his head, trying in vain to protect his hair and face. </p><p> </p><p>He pulled in the slashed hand with a hiss and felt his other arm get hit as well as the rapier tried to take more of his hair. </p><p> </p><p>Techno felt the whip-like rapier descend onto his arms and head again and again. Every wound so far was bleeding heavily now, and the new ones he could tell were even deeper than the first few because he wasn’t even bothering to defend himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop… please,” he continued to beg as he felt more hair fall down and his arms grew more and more lacerated. “Stop! Stop! Please, Dad, stop!"</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know how long it lasted, sitting there in the fetal position with his arms over his head as pitiful protection against his father and the rapier. It could’ve been hours, it could’ve been seconds, but to Techno it felt like an eternity. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, another voice, “Ἀρχή!” </p><p> </p><p>Techno had rarely heard anyone address his father by his title. </p><p> </p><p>The rapier stopped, though Techno couldn’t tell because the cuts on his arms still screamed in too much pain for him to tell any difference between the first and the last. </p><p> </p><p>“Arch, please! He’s had enough.”</p><p> </p><p>It was his mother’s voice. </p><p> </p><p>Techno couldn’t move, he just stayed there in the grass, shaking, afraid that any movement at all would increase the pain or cause the blows to start again. </p><p> </p><p>They started having a conversation, but it sounded far away like Techno was hearing the words through several layers of wool. </p><p> </p><p>His mother sounded harsh and slightly worried, but Techno knew it wasn’t for his safety. Though his mother was kinder than the King, she didn’t care so much as Arch didn’t do something permanently damaging. </p><p> </p><p>Techno wondered what made her interfere this time. </p><p> </p><p>He heard a blazing “ἀνάξιος!” spat from his father like it was a curse and curled further into himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Unworthy.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The King wasn’t wrong. He deserved it. </p><p> </p><p>He would just lose. He should die here. He couldn’t even defend himself for a second. Why couldn’t he do anything right? Why had he kept his hair up? Stupid, worthless child.</p><p> </p><p>Techno couldn’t breathe through the pain, through the heart-ache, though anything. Shallow, quick breaths were keeping him alive, but he didn’t even know why he was still trying.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it would be better just to stop entirely. He would never have to deal with this ever again, his father would never have to deal with him again. It would be so easy to just give into the pain. Why did he want to do that again?</p><p> </p><p>He was having trouble thinking now, but he was pretty sure that blood had started to drip onto his legs. Or were his legs bleeding as well? Everything hurt, it didn’t feel like he could locate any specific injury. Any movement at all felt like it would strip all the skin from his body like a horrific banana peel. </p><p> </p><p>He felt more liquid fall from his face and wondered if it was blood too. Oh, wait, no. Those were tears. </p><p> </p><p>Each cut felt like barbed wire continuously digging further into his skin. Consciously, he knew there were no more cuts appearing, but new phantom pains still raced up and down his arms. Or was it just the old wounds? He couldn’t tell where the pain stopped and he began. He was just a wound. </p><p> </p><p>He was dizzy. </p><p> </p><p>He felt more tears fall down his face as he continued to shake. </p><p> </p><p>He was so very dizzy. </p><p> </p><p>And tired. </p><p> </p><p>And everything hurt and...</p><p> </p><p>Tired…</p><p> </p><p>And hurt...</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t think straight.</p><p> </p><p>The world was a little blurry now. </p><p> </p><p>That wasn’t good. He couldn’t tell if he couldn’t see because of blood loss or if there was blood in his eye from one of the facial cuts. </p><p> </p><p>“I need to speak to you. Alone, please.” He heard Agatha’s voice cut through the static that was his pain and heard two pairs of feet walk away. </p><p> </p><p>“Τέχνηκα?”</p><p> </p><p>His mother’s voice again; he could only whimper. </p><p> </p><p>He felt a hand touch his arms and cried out. </p><p> </p><p>“Shhh,” her voice soothed, “shhh, little one.”</p><p> </p><p>It hurt so bad, and he was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired of fighting.</p><p> </p><p>He just wanted to…</p><p> </p><p>He just…</p><p> </p><p>He just wanted...</p><p> </p><p>Techno closed his eyes and faded into nothingness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Greek translations:<br/>[words are capitalized if they are a name or in place of a name]<br/>Ἀγαθή - (Agathe) good, proper, useful, brave, noble [Agatha’s title]<br/>Διάδοχος - (Diadochos) successor [an insulting nickname given to Techno by his father]<br/>Τέχνη - (Techne) art, skill, artifice, cunning, trick [Techno’s title]<br/>Τέχνηκa - (Techneka) a form of Τέχνη, the -κa is a diminutive ending. Imply a “my little [blank]” to the word. For example, his mother was saying: my little Techno.<br/>Ἀρχή - (Arche) beginning, leadership, power, government, empire [the king’s title, often addressed as Arch or Archie by his close companions]<br/>ἀνάξιος - (anaxios) unworthy, worthless [another insult]</p><p>Yes, child Techno had blond hair, if you’ve read TSS you’ll know it’s eventually gonna be pink. The story of how it became pink will come in time.</p><p>I’m sorry, bit of an “oof” chapter for ya, folks. How are we feeling?<br/>Like always with me, I will be answering each of your comments. So please, if you feel comfortable, let me know what’s going through your head! And of course, if you have any questions please let me know. </p><p>If there are any tags/warnings you think should be added also please let me know. Your safety is my first priority.</p><p>Be safe, comrades,<br/>Onelituli (Tuli)<br/>&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. leitmotif</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leitmotif: noun.<br/>A short, recurring musical phrase associated with a particular person, place, or idea. It is closely related to the musical concepts of idée fixe (an obsession) or motto-theme (a recurring theme that sometimes appears transformed/changed)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: injury, references to abuse, mention of a panic attack (as always, if anything should be added here, do not hesitate to let me know)</p><p>Greek translations and Lullaby reference/score in endnotes</p><p>Those of you who have read TSS get to see a familiar character :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Rings of light and narrow sights take a seat </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It's best to keep the music loud and tap our feet </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lay your head and wake up dead, tonight we stay alive </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dance our way through death and daze, and maybe we survive </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stay Awake </em>
</p><p>
  <em>By Johnny Manchild and the Poor Bastards </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Techno wasn’t sure what happened. </p><p> </p><p>In one moment he had been curled up in the grass in immense pain, and in the next he was curled up in a bed. <em> His </em> bed, with its large frame and red velvet curtains. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t in pain anymore. </p><p> </p><p>Techno just laid there for a second, almost believing that everything that had happened before had just been a bad dream. This peaceful reflection was interrupted as he realized that he had indeed stopped feeling pain, but there was something else he couldn’t feel.</p><p> </p><p>Anything. </p><p> </p><p>Everything. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t feel <em> anything. </em></p><p> </p><p>That revelation sent him spiraling as he leapt up and desperately started rubbing his hands on the velvet bedsheets around him. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> literally </em> couldn’t feel them. </p><p> </p><p>Why couldn’t he feel them?</p><p> </p><p>It was his bed, he should be able to feel it. </p><p> </p><p>There was pressure there… or something? Techno wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly. It was like the sheets existed, because he could move them, he could touch them, but he couldn’t <em> feel </em> them. There was no texture. There was no temperature. Everything just… <em> was. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” He called out, panic seeping into his voice. He heard his words echo even though they never used to when he had shouted from his room. </p><p> </p><p>For a moment there was no response. </p><p> </p><p>Then… </p><p> </p><p>That was when the whispers started. </p><p> </p><p>Quiet at first, but building in strength as each second passed. </p><p> </p><p>They were so <em> loud. </em> They were only whispers, but somehow they were <em> loud </em> in a way he couldn’t express.</p><p> </p><p>So, so many voices. So many words. </p><p> </p><p>He knew the voices were saying coherent things, though he couldn’t explain how he knew. Techno felt like he should be able to understand, maybe even like they wanted him to understand. He didn’t want to understand. He didn’t want to even hear them. </p><p> </p><p>Techno clamped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes but these actions did nothing to silence the voices. It was like their words were being said directly to him, being forcefully injected into his mind. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t make out what they were saying, it just sounded like some terrifying beast of white noise. They were a white water river coursing through him, and he was some poor fool desperately trying to come up for air. </p><p> </p><p>“Please, stop… it’s too loud… please…”</p><p> </p><p>He tried pressing his nails into his palm to ground himself but remembered as he felt his fist clench that he couldn’t feel anything. His brain supplied that he <em> should </em> be feeling something, but there was nothing. No pain. No matter how hard he pressed, not even when he saw his nails draw blood, did Techno ever feel anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Help…”</p><p> </p><p>The whispers somehow managed to increase in volume as Techno fled to the corner of the room, trying to escape what he was hearing. The whispers sounded alarmed, angry, concerned, and so many other things Techno could barely understand. He felt these emotions creep into his own system and it just made him more panicked. </p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t him. </p><p> </p><p>He fell to his knees, wave after wave of pure emotions that weren’t his crashing into him. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop, please… I can’t- I can’t...”</p><p> </p><p>Tears were falling down his face. </p><p> </p><p>Why was he grieving? Why was he crying? He was fine. But he felt so sad. Nothing mattered, he was so empty. He was so cold. Why was he even trying? Techno just wanted to lie down and die.</p><p> </p><p>Then, a jolt of unadulterated anger. Techno was breathless as he reeled from the dramatic change. Revenge? Hatred. For what? He just wanted to kill something. He wanted to watch someone else bleed out in front of him and die. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Why? It didn’t matter why. He wanted to stab something. He wanted blood. He was the hunter <em> and </em> the hunted. The terrified and the bloodthirsty. </p><p> </p><p>He felt like he was being torn apart.</p><p> </p><p>He was happy now. Excited? A chorus of joyous rhapsody for something he had never known. </p><p> </p><p>Everything was okay. He felt like he was floating. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t breathe.</p><p> </p><p>He tried to choke out another plea for release but couldn’t get a breath. </p><p> </p><p>Everytime he thought he finally had surfaced above the turmoil, he was violently dragged back under. Techno was being thrown around again and again by the riptide, unable to relax for a second. </p><p> </p><p>Words. Sounds. <em> Emotions. </em></p><p> </p><p>It was so overwhelming, he felt like he could barely hear his real thoughts over the static. Which feelings were his own? He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t remember. </p><p> </p><p>They were so <em> loud. </em></p><p> </p><p>Techno wasn’t sure how long he sat there, rocking back and forth, suffering from the cacophony of noise in his head. </p><p> </p><p>It was a long time. </p><p> </p><p>Some might even say an eternity. </p><p> </p><p>But does time exist in a vacuum? </p><p> </p><p>At some point, Techno began to hear actual words. </p><p> </p><p>But they weren’t the voices’.</p><p> </p><p>Someone was singing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hear the lie.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In my.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Goodbye.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Techno knew these words. He knew every note by heart. A to E to C, A to F, then A rolled down to E. His mother had sung this lullaby to him countless times. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I fear it may be the end. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As the singing continued to echo through his mind, Techno realized the song wasn’t coming from his mind. It was external. </p><p> </p><p>With a sudden burst of energy, Techno stood and shakily went to leave the room in search of the voice. </p><p> </p><p>He opened the door and found himself looking into a hallway of the palace. </p><p> </p><p>But everything was wrong.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But I cannot pretend.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Everything was monotone, or at least close to it. </p><p> </p><p>He saw a few light reds, some faded blues, a dull green here and there, but all the colors had been muted. It was like he was walking through the world with a gray filter over his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>There was also a slight blur around everything, like his eyes were unfocused. Maybe he suddenly needed glasses. </p><p> </p><p>He began to run- more like a frantic stumble- down the deserted hallways of this pseudo-palace. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hear this tune.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The whispers began to fade. Techno almost started crying again, but this time it would have been tears of relief. They were gone. He could think again. </p><p> </p><p>He had no idea how it was working, but the more he focused on the song, the more the vehement voices in his head pulled back. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll go soon.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He remembered now what had happened. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> By the moon.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He had been injured. By his father. </p><p> </p><p>The courtyard. </p><p> </p><p>Where was he?</p><p> </p><p>How did he get here?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Though I have to leave you here.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As Techno ran through the halls of the palace he ran into no one else. </p><p> </p><p>Where <em> was </em> everyone else?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don’t think I am not sincere.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He began to hear the notes of a piano.</p><p> </p><p>His mother played piano. Not well, but she still played. </p><p> </p><p>Like he played the violin. </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t need to be beautiful. </p><p> </p><p>It was music nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When I say.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Mom?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I want to stay.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was no response. </p><p> </p><p>No sign that the singer had heard his call. </p><p> </p><p>The voices had completely vanished as well. </p><p> </p><p>For some reason Techno felt empty without them. </p><p> </p><p>Without their emotions feeding him. </p><p> </p><p>No. He was glad they were gone. </p><p> </p><p>But for some reason he couldn’t believe it. </p><p> </p><p>He continued to run. </p><p> </p><p>For a terrifying second, Techno worried the singing had stopped and he would be lost again to the chaos of the whispers, but then the next verse began. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And I know.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Techno worried that he had died of his injuries and this was some illusion of his dying mind. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The snow. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He had heard rumors of respawn servers, but his world was hardcore. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Below.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>If he <em> had </em> died, he was supposed to be <em> dead, </em> not whatever this was. </p><p> </p><p>Purgatory?</p><p> </p><p>Hell?</p><p> </p><p>The void?</p><p> </p><p>Techno had never heard of anything like this ever happening on a respawn server. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When you see it, think of me.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The piano was getting louder, and suddenly Techno knew where he was going. The warped, faded palace may have been very different appearance wise from the real palace, but the layout was the same.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But here, I cannot be.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a room on the south side of the palace with huge windows, and in the center of the room was a grand piano that Techno often found his mother sitting at on those nights neither of them could sleep. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hear this tune.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The chorus had begun again. A C E.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll go soon.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Mom!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> By the moon.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Still no answer. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Though I have to leave you here.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He was so close now. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don’t think I am not sincere.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He was sprinting. He could see the door to the window and piano room. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When I say.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Techno rushed to the doors and pushed them open. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I want to stay.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sitting at the piano was his mother, fingers gliding elegantly over the white keys. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> With.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>B. The second to last note. </p><p> </p><p>“Mom?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The final A. It was over. </p><p> </p><p>His mother turned to him with a smile on her face that dropped into a confused frown as soon as she saw him. </p><p> </p><p>Techno froze. </p><p> </p><p>“Τέχνη? You’re not- you shouldn’t be here.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno couldn’t breathe. </p><p> </p><p>He was drowning in his mother’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Κριτής, the Queen, his <em>mother,</em> had deep brown eyes, like him. He had her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>They were beautiful eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Techno loved his mother’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Her real eyes. </p><p> </p><p>This person’s eyes were a bright, penetrating <em> blue. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Techno?”</p><p> </p><p>He tried to back away but felt like his feet were frozen to the ground. </p><p> </p><p>“Techno, are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>For a place where he hadn’t been able to feel anything, suddenly Techno was freezing. </p><p> </p><p>He was shivering. </p><p> </p><p>“Techno?”</p><p> </p><p>Her <em> eyes. </em></p><p> </p><p>All he could see were her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>The world caved in. He was falling.</p><p> </p><p>Everything returned in a flash of color and light. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Techno?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno was lying down on a firm cot and staring upwards into his mother’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes were brown.</p><p> </p><p>They had never been blue. </p><p> </p><p>“Tech-”</p><p> </p><p>He sat upright abruptly and hugged her, clinging to her strong form for support. Physical and emotional support. </p><p> </p><p>“Woah, Τέχνη? Are you alright?” Κριτής hugged him back, hesitantly. </p><p> </p><p>Techno felt himself begin to sob. Her grip grew tighter. </p><p> </p><p>He could feel again. </p><p> </p><p>There were no voices in his head.</p><p> </p><p>It was only his own thoughts. His own feelings. </p><p> </p><p>He was almost thankful for the stinging pains in his arms. </p><p> </p><p>He felt the cot against his legs. </p><p> </p><p>He felt his mother’s warmth as he hugged her. </p><p> </p><p>He was crying and he didn’t even care. He was too happy. </p><p> </p><p>“Techno, I’m so glad you’re okay.”</p><p> </p><p>He just cried into her arms. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, he heard her gently ask, “Techno, you need to let go now. I need to check your arms.”</p><p> </p><p>He slowly and reluctantly sat back and presented his arms. </p><p> </p><p>The queen inspected the wrapped bandages. As she turned and prodded them, Techno felt pricks of pain, but they were nothing to what they had been before. He was sure that sometime while he had been out, someone had given him a healing or regeneration potion. </p><p> </p><p>His father never let him use potions after their matches. </p><p> </p><p>This time must’ve been really bad if they were willing to waste potions on him. </p><p> </p><p>Not that the kingdom had a scarcity of potions, no. Techno had just always been told that he wasn’t deserving of them. He needed to prove himself first. Using them on a weak Princeling was just a waste of resources. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly Techno remembered the other thing that had been injured during training. </p><p> </p><p>His hair. </p><p> </p><p>He wrenched his hands from his mother and slowly ran his fingers through what was left of his hair. </p><p> </p><p>It was very short now, with jagged, uneven edges that made sense as having been hacked at with a rapier. </p><p> </p><p>His mother started to say something but Techno didn’t hear it.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he felt his breath quicken and a panic attack begin to rise. He pushed it down, trying to stop his hands from shaking. </p><p> </p><p>His parent’s didn’t like it when he had an attack. </p><p> </p><p>It was weak. </p><p> </p><p><em> He </em> was weak. </p><p> </p><p>He always had to hide them, or repress them. </p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t stop this one. </p><p> </p><p>Usually, he would use his hair as a destress, by either just playing with it or braiding it. It was a coping mechanism. To find something he could control and focus on it instead of the mess that his life was. </p><p> </p><p>Instead of the waste that his life was. </p><p> </p><p>Everything else in his life was on someone else’s whim. </p><p> </p><p>When he ate. </p><p> </p><p>What he did. </p><p> </p><p>Who he spoke to. </p><p> </p><p>But his hair. </p><p> </p><p>His hair was the one thing he could depend on. </p><p> </p><p>And now it was gone. </p><p> </p><p>Sometime during that, his mother had stood and begun to adjust some of the medical supplies on a shelf, paying no attention to her spiraling son. </p><p> </p><p>He rejoined reality to hear her saying, “-and as soon as you’re able to stand, which should already be possible, Arch wants you in his office.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno swallowed down another bout of fear. “Yes, mother.”</p><p> </p><p>She turned back to him and smiled. </p><p> </p><p>As much as Techno had felt that the mother of the other world was <em> wrong</em> in every sense of the word, her smile had been warmer than his real mother’s. It was kind and genuine. </p><p> </p><p>Kris’ smiles, the Queen’s smiles, were always just polite, like she was doing what was expected. They were never <em> real. </em></p><p> </p><p>“I know you don’t like it when Arch gets like this,” she gently explained, “but he wants what is best for you. The pain is only temporary, it’s making you stronger.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno just nodded, not wanting to believe it. It always hurt so bad; he never became strong <em> enough </em> for it to not hurt. But they were his parents. He could never go against them even if he wanted to. They were doing what was best for him, right? He just had to trust in his training. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, now. Up.” Kris moved to his side and offered her arm for support. </p><p> </p><p>He hesitantly leaned into her and stood from the cot, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through his arms. </p><p> </p><p>Now that he was standing he could feel that there were a few bandages on his legs, but that they were much more sporadic than those on his arms. Techno’s forearms were almost completely covered with white gauze and wrapped bandages. In a few places, he could see some red peeking through. He certainly felt better this time than he had in the past- likely due to whatever potion they had given him- but it was still painful. </p><p> </p><p>Kris slowly pulled away from him, letting Techno stand on his own. He wobbled for a second, but steadied himself not long after, taking a deep breath. </p><p> </p><p>His mother smiled proudly, “ἐμοῦ κριτός, go to your father now.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My chosen one.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Queen's addresses were nicer than his father’s, but even with their endearing tone, Techno always felt like they were missing something. He didn’t realize that the sour taste in his mouth was because his mother always added ἐμοῦ. <em> Mine. </em> It was always possessive with her. It wasn’t even the basic form, μου. “μου” meant “my” as well, but ἐμοῦ on the other hand meant <em> mine, </em> it was the emphatic form. As an emphasized form of mine, the ἐμοῦ stressed that possessive relationship that Techno tried to ignore. </p><p> </p><p>He would much rather believe that she loved him. Not that she owned him. </p><p> </p><p>It was easier that way.</p><p> </p><p>Techno dutifully left the room, realizing as he did that he had been brought to one of the castle’s infirmaries. </p><p> </p><p>Huh, that had never happened before. </p><p> </p><p>It must’ve really been bad. </p><p> </p><p>As he walked, though Techno didn’t realize it, the memory of the other place began to fade. Soon, he didn’t even remember it at all. </p><p> </p><p>The voices. </p><p> </p><p>The monotone palace walls. </p><p> </p><p>The blue eyes. </p><p> </p><p>They were all gone. </p><p> </p><p>But Techno didn’t even realize that he was missing anything. For, if you don’t know you’ve forgotten something, how can you miss it?</p><p> </p><p>What do memories become when you cease to remember them? Where do they go?</p><p> </p><p>Nowhere?</p><p> </p><p>Everywhere?</p><p> </p><p>Techno would never know.</p><p> </p><p>On his walk, he passed Ἀστήρ, or Aster, his father’s maid in one of the hallways.</p><p> </p><p>She gave him an empathetic nod that he returned. </p><p> </p><p>If anyone could understand what they were going through, it was each other. Out of anyone in the world, Aster understood him the most. Though they had never spoken, he would’ve considered her a friend. </p><p> </p><p>Strange how that works, huh? Shared suffering brings people together, sometimes with bonds as strong as diamond. </p><p> </p><p>Anything not to feel alone. </p><p> </p><p>By the time he reached the great mahogany doors to his father’s office, some of the wounds had begun to throb with pain again. It seemed that any sort of activity would have aggravated them again. </p><p> </p><p>Techno opened the doors, flinching from the pain in his arms as he did so. </p><p> </p><p>Quickly recovering, he stood up straighter and tried to ignore the complaints of his bandaged legs. </p><p> </p><p>Sitting at a large desk at the end of a long blue carpet was his father, who was absentmindedly flipping through some scrolls. </p><p> </p><p>Talking at him by his side like a particularly annoying bird was Στέφανος, the king’s brother and Agatha’s husband. He had blond hair of his own, but it was longer and held back in a ponytail at the base of his skull. Arch didn’t seem to be paying him the slightest attention, but Stephanos didn’t care as he continued ranting. </p><p> </p><p>Stephanos’ words and gestures were animated, a harsh opposite to the controlled Arch, as he said loudly, “and this guy has the audacity to tell me- <em> me- </em> that he thinks you’re-” he noticed Techno’s entry. “Ah, Τέχνη! My boy! Come on over, we were just talking about you.”</p><p> </p><p>Arch hummed, glancing at his son for only a second for a quick look over. As soon as the king saw the bandages, he nodded and returned to focusing on the scrolls. His eyes were on the papers as he said simply, “come sit. Stephanos has something to tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno walked over slowly, trying to hide any sort of weakness from the pain still screaming from his arms and legs. Sitting rigidly down on a soft chair in front of the desk, Techno moved his eyes to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“So, Techno,” Stephanos began, “Agatha was talking to me last night about your sparring match with my brother here-”</p><p> </p><p>Techno coughed, trying to ignore the panic that had flooded into his bones, “sorry, how long have I been out?”</p><p> </p><p>The King’s eyes flicked up once as he said, “around a day. You should’ve been up earlier, but Kris insisted that you have a few more hours of rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“As he should, as he should. The kid needs a break, Archie.” Stephanos nodded resolutely, and Techno saw a vein bulge on his father’s face at the familiar nickname. He also knew that the king would probably kill anyone who used that name except for his brother. </p><p> </p><p>Stephanos continued, “as I was saying earlier, Agatha thought that you’d do better under her training than Arch’s, and naturally my brother disagreed-” Techno saw the king frown at Stephanos’ words “-because that’s just how he is. So I suggested that you get a new training partner, one that you can really measure up against, because Archie here and Agatha, as much as I love her, aren’t suitable matches for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Stephanos looked at him expectantly, though Techno had no idea how to respond. </p><p> </p><p>Arch continued to flip through papers, until he sighed and finished Stephanos’ explanation, “what my fool of a brother is trying to say is that you will have a peer to train with now. Agatha will still be teaching you, but you’ll have an equal partner who will test you. You’re both around the same level, so it should be more of a <em> fair </em> test of your skill.” Arch’s eyes met Techno’s and Techno had to fight the urge to look away. “Since you have been proven too weak to fight me, Stephanos has found a replacement.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno glanced between the King and his brother. “Um, alright. Who- who is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“My son!” Stephanos beamed, “Φιλοκίνδυνος!”</p><p> </p><p>Ah, Techno thought, <em> that</em> kid. Φιλοκίνδυνος. </p><p> </p><p>He had seen Agatha and Stephanos’ son around the castle before, but it was a rare sighting. His cousin seemed more interested in exploration than the complicated politics of ruling. Techno was pretty sure that his actual name was Phillip, or Phil, or something like that. They had spoken a few times at family dinners, but Techno had never made an effort to get to know him. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure he wanted to get to know Phil, but he was relieved as he realized that Phil would probably be an easier rival than his father. </p><p> </p><p>Techno simply nodded again, making sure that nothing he did upset his father. “When do we start?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow.” Arch finally really looked up from the scrolls, “now, both of you, out.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno couldn’t leave quick enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Greek Glossary:<br/>Τέχνη - (Techne) art, skill, artifice, cunning, trick [Techno’s title]<br/>Κριτής - (Krites) judge [the queen’s title, often just called Kris]<br/>ἐμοῦ κριτός - (emou kritos) my chosen one [a term for Techno from his mother]<br/>ἐμοῦ vs. μου - (emou vs. mou) emou is an emphatic [emphasized] form of mou, and they both are genitive [possessive] meaning my or mine<br/>Ἀστήρ - (Aster) star [the king’s maid’s title]<br/>Στέφανος - (Stephanos) wreath, crown [the king’s younger brother’s title, usually called Stephanos]<br/>Φιλοκίνδυνος - (Philokindunos) daring, brave, literally: “lover of danger” [Phil’s title, called Phillip (usually by his parents) or Phil]</p><p>Lullaby music <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065340">here.</a></p><p>Yoo! Phil is here! POG</p><p>What happened to Techno? Where did he go? How are you feeling about his mother and father? What do you think of Stephanos?</p><p>Kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks are always appreciated &lt;3</p><p>I plan on releasing the start to a new (shorter) fic soon, unrelated to TSS and DTJL, about Techno’s favor to Dream, so be on the lookout for that if it’s something you’d be interested in. </p><p>Anyway, hope you’re having a great night or day (whenever)!<br/>Be safe and take care of yourself<br/>Thank you so much for the support,<br/>Tuli &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. nocturne (pt. 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nocturne: noun.<br/>Usually a musical composition that is inspired by, or evocative of, the night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Greek translations in the endnotes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Night, are you here again? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Night, won't you let me in? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I have lied here waiting </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But when I lay me down to rest </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It's part of some eternal jest </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though since you left me here, I've grown </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I still wish I weren't here alone </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Night </em>
</p><p>
  <em> By The Altogether </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Phil had known that his life was insignificant since birth but wasn’t particularly broken up about it. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone knew the royal family. Everyone knew Ἀρχή and Κριτής, the great King and Queen of their world, because they made sure the people knew who to direct their thanks toward. Then, there was their only child, Τέχνη, the brightest star of their empire and the heir apparent to the throne.</p><p> </p><p>Most people also knew about Στέφανος and Ἀγαθή, the brother of the King and his wife. Stephanos was reasonably well-known since most of his political responsibilities brought him in close contact with the people. Additionally, he was the third in line for the throne if Arch, Kris, and Techno died. From the little he had heard, Phil believed that the people currently leaned toward Techno, but he had also heard whispers in favor of his own father. </p><p> </p><p>However, few knew about Φιλοκίνδυνος, the first and only child of Stephanos and Agatha. </p><p> </p><p>Which Phil was absolutely fine with. </p><p> </p><p>It meant he didn’t have to bear any of the weight of the crown and was left mostly to his own devices. He reaped all the benefits of being royalty and none of the drawbacks. </p><p> </p><p>He had freedom to do whatever he wanted- within reason of course. Phil didn’t plan on abusing his station any time soon. He was too comfortable being a shadow in the background to consider doing anything that might lose him this advantage. His loyalty was to the crown, and he was a good servant. </p><p> </p><p>He spent most of his days riding horseback through the woods, hunting. Sometimes he would train with his mother, usually whenever she had a light day. Being Captain of the guard was surprisingly difficult it seemed, though Phil never looked much into it himself. </p><p> </p><p>The only thing Phil had ever been asked to do was exist. </p><p> </p><p>It was a stark contrast to the other boy Phil frequently saw around the castle, who seemed to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. Phil couldn’t imagine what he had been asked to do. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know. It was so much easier to just live in complacency as ‘Lord Phillip’ and not ask questions. </p><p> </p><p>But his cousin… the <em> Prince</em>...</p><p> </p><p>The boy with shadowed eyes, careful, watchful, as if he was always in danger. </p><p> </p><p>The boy who would flich ever so slightly- as if he had been trained not to- at loud noises or abrupt movement. </p><p> </p><p>The boy with too many scars for his age, and who always seemed to be gaining more. </p><p> </p><p>Phil wanted to hug him. His cousin. </p><p> </p><p>But Techno would never let anyone close. The few times Phil had managed to speak to the Prince, he had never really listened. His expression always carried a sort of unfocused detachment. </p><p> </p><p>It was strange, Phil could tell Techno was always alert, always searching for threats and cataloging his surroundings, but the other’s <em> presence </em> was never there. The paradox of intense strategic focus paired with the depth of personal suffering Phil saw grace his eyes when he thought no one was looking. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes it hurt Phil to even think of what Techno must be going through- though he carefully avoided thinking about who might be inflicting those ever present wounds- and had an idea. </p><p> </p><p>Sure, Lord Φιλοκίνδυνος had little royal responsibilities, but <em> Phil </em> had one. He knew that he would be expected to act as Stephanos did for Arch when Techno eventually rose to the throne, as a trusted advisor and an unquestionably loyal supporter. </p><p> </p><p>Why not start now? </p><p> </p><p>He was going to help Techno. Gods knew that Techno needed someone- <em> anyone- </em> on his side.  </p><p> </p><p>So when he was called into Arch’s office and offered the job of being the Prince’s peer and sparring partner, he eagerly accepted. </p><p> </p><p>“Your title?”</p><p> </p><p>“Φιλοκίνδυνος, Your Majesty.”</p><p> </p><p>The King hummed. Stephanos held his breath. Phil remained unmoving, at attention, as he stared straight ahead while the King paced around him like a jungle cat. </p><p> </p><p>“And have you received any formal training?”</p><p> </p><p>“From my mother, Agatha.”</p><p> </p><p>That seemed to be enough as the King waved a hand, “yes, I suppose he’ll have to do.”</p><p> </p><p>Stephanos finally seemed to relax and sent Phil a small smile which he easily returned. He was glad he had met the King’s unknown standards, whatever they were, though he had never done anything to worry otherwise. Phil was loyal, he always would be. </p><p> </p><p>He was going to help Techno if it killed him. </p><p> </p><p>Which seemed to become an actual possibility after their first day. </p><p> </p><p>Phil wasn’t a fool, he knew not to underestimate the Prince, but he was still blown away by his peer’s technique. Everyone knew the Prince’s title, Τέχνη, meaning skill, but Phil had learned how the kid earned it. </p><p> </p><p>There was something strangely beautiful about the way the other danced through each fight, face completely blank. Techno gave away nothing, not a single thing Phil could work with to try and gain an upper hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Τέχνη!” Phil had yelled after the Prince when they had finished their first day of training. Techno had just kept walking without even a glance backwards. </p><p> </p><p>Phillip sighed. </p><p> </p><p>Shoot. Did he need to be more formal? Maybe he shouldn’t have addressed him by title, was that too intimate? </p><p> </p><p>Day two. </p><p> </p><p>“Your Highness!”</p><p> </p><p>Still not even a glance. </p><p> </p><p>Day three. </p><p> </p><p>“Your Royal Highness?”</p><p> </p><p>Nothing at all. </p><p> </p><p>Day four. </p><p> </p><p>Phil had gotten better. At first it had seemed that Techno had no tells, but Phil was coming to learn that simply wasn’t true. </p><p> </p><p>The kid was good, there was no denying that, but even the best fighters still had weaknesses. </p><p> </p><p>They had been fighting like every other day, Agatha watching intently, when Phil noticed it. The rhythm to Techno’s movement. </p><p> </p><p>It was like he was dancing. </p><p> </p><p>Phil could practically hear the music as their swords clashed. It was musical. It was beautiful. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Phil could return blows. Before then, he had mostly been forced on the defensive by the sheer assertiveness with which Techno entered every battle. Phil had thought it was just his style. </p><p> </p><p>No, Phil realized, Techno was just following the song only he could hear. </p><p> </p><p>But Phil could hear it now too. </p><p> </p><p>And so, Techno gained a partner in the dance. </p><p> </p><p>Though Phil didn’t notice it, Agatha’s eyes widened as Phil began to push back. </p><p> </p><p>Techno’s eyes flashed as Phil blocked a swipe at his left leg that the Phil from yesterday would’ve missed. </p><p> </p><p>A tone resonated, an A. </p><p> </p><p>The ringing of the swords continued. </p><p> </p><p>C. </p><p> </p><p>E. </p><p> </p><p>Oh? Phil grinned, Techno was fighting in a minor key. A minor to be specific. He could change that. </p><p> </p><p>F#. </p><p> </p><p>The song flipped into A <em> major. </em> They continued to dance. </p><p> </p><p>Phil saw a smile appear on Techno’s face and felt pride warm his own chest. It was the first time he had ever seen the Prince smile, and he thought it was beautiful. He suddenly wanted to make Techno smile <em> more.  </em></p><p> </p><p>But he stopped thinking as Techno began to move faster, taking the tempo from andante to allegro. </p><p> </p><p>There was no need to predict, there was no need to analyze. Phil was writing the song as much as Techno had been. </p><p> </p><p>It was a dance, and Techno was no longer the one leading. They danced together. </p><p> </p><p>Without even knowing it, Techno began to hum along with the rhythm. Phil joined him as Agatha just watched in awe. </p><p> </p><p>A C# E F# E. </p><p> </p><p>A few clashes: defend shoulder, attack knee. Techno’s sword moved as if it was a conductor’s baton. </p><p> </p><p>High A to E.</p><p> </p><p>F# to E. </p><p> </p><p>A C# E F# E C# B.</p><p> </p><p>B.</p><p> </p><p>C# B.</p><p> </p><p>They jumped apart with the end of the phrase. </p><p> </p><p>Almost involuntarily, Phil and Techno rushed back in, continuing to hum along with their swords. </p><p> </p><p>They both were having <em>fun.</em></p><p> </p><p>The melody repeated.</p><p> </p><p>A C# E F# E.</p><p> </p><p>High A to E.</p><p> </p><p>F# to E. </p><p> </p><p>A C# E F# E to a high A G# and two high As in rapid succession. </p><p> </p><p>They found themselves locked on each other’s eyes as their swords were also locked, crossed in front of them over their chests. </p><p> </p><p>Techno laughed, gently relaxing his own sword. Phil smiled right back at him. </p><p> </p><p>There was no tension in the Prince’s shoulders as he offered a hand for a handshake. Phil practically glowed. He had done it, if even only for one solitary moment, he had removed the burden of the crown from Techno. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t see a Prince as he shook Techno’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>He saw a kid a year younger than him. </p><p> </p><p>He saw a friend. </p><p> </p><p>He saw his family. </p><p> </p><p>“Ξίφος!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sword! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>With that one word, it all came crashing down again. Techno’s entire body tensed as he dropped his blade to his side and stood a little straighter, pulling his hand away from Phil’s and turning to face a balcony where Arch and Stephanos were standing. </p><p> </p><p>Techno’s unreadable eyes found the ground and stayed there, like any good servant. </p><p> </p><p>“ναί?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yes? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Phil frowned. Had that been a form of address? Did the King really call his son a sword, and more importantly, Techno had just answered that easily? Was this a common thing? That couldn’t be normal, right?</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you-”</p><p> </p><p>Stephanos slapped his brother’s shoulder and the King scowled. “Lay off, Arch. They did well.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil saw Techno’s submissive gaze rise to meet his father’s. A question passed between them and Arch narrowed his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“ἀρεστός.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Acceptable.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Phil heard a slight sigh of relief escape Techno.</p><p> </p><p>Agatha spoke up, coming from her place on the side of the courtyard to join Techno and Phil in the center, “did you need something, Your Majesties?”</p><p> </p><p>The Queen’s head popped up beside the King’s, yelling down to them, “Τέχνηκα is needed for a debriefing.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil saw Techno nod slowly. The King and Queen left the balcony.  </p><p> </p><p>Stephanos waved to Agatha before leaving himself, saying, “you are a great teacher, my love.”</p><p> </p><p>Agatha shook her head at her husband but smiled. </p><p> </p><p>Phil watched Techno leave, realizing that today might’ve finally been the day he could’ve spoken- <em> really </em> spoken to Techno- and he had missed it. </p><p> </p><p>Well, Phillip made up his mind, he wasn’t going down without a fight.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was dusk now and nearly everyone in the castle was getting ready for sleep. </p><p> </p><p>Nearly everyone meant anyone of importance; Phil had learned the servants were often up to much later hours. </p><p> </p><p>So that was where he found himself spending many of his nights, conversing with the palace servants who had eventually warmed up to him. </p><p> </p><p>But that didn’t mean he didn’t annoy them from time to time. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re a menace!” Ἀστήρ shout-whispered, lightly hitting the back of Phil’s head with a wooden spoon as she pulled a pastry from Phil’s hands. </p><p> </p><p>Phil tried to put on his best puppy face, “come on, Aster, just one?”</p><p> </p><p>She glared at him, hissing, “βάλλ' εἰς κόρακας!” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Go to the crows! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“But, Aster-” he whined. </p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely not.” Aster smiled gently, continuing with a mock threatening tone, “I’ve kept my position for this long and if you manage to ruin it for me, I’ll make you regret it. I don’t care how royal you are.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil hopped down from the table counter he had been on, looking over Aster’s shoulder as she moved more rolls into the furnace. </p><p> </p><p>She turned around to face him, “don’t you have other friends to bother?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Phil said, “that’s the plan, it’s actually what I’ve come to you about.”</p><p> </p><p>Aster raised her eyebrows, moving around the kitchen while continuing to work, “sure, I guess? What do you need?”</p><p> </p><p>“Where does Techno hang out when he’s not doing- I don’t know- Princely things?”</p><p> </p><p>She paused, biting her lip as she kneaded some dough. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, leaning against the wall, “I just want to get to know the guy. I never seem to be able to catch him alone and I was hoping we could become friends, it certainly seems like he needs them.”</p><p> </p><p>Aster snorted, “you’re right about that.” A few more seconds passed while she considered something. Continuing, “are you busy tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil shook his head. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if he’ll still be there, but…” Aster sighed, “he was playing violin in the South Wing earlier, you could try to-”</p><p> </p><p>Phil was already running, yelling back to Aster, “thank you!”</p><p> </p><p>With an amused laugh, Aster continued to knead and roll the dough, hoping that Phil could give Techno something she couldn’t. She hoped Techno would open up to him. </p><p> </p><p>Aster sighed, it was so unlikely. But Techno <em> needed </em> someone, whether he knew it or not. If he kept going on as he was, she didn’t think that he’d like who he became. </p><p> </p><p>She hoped, gods did she hope, that Phil would manage to pull Techno from the web he was in. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Phillip was sprinting through the halls of the castle, apologizing to any of the servants he accidentally ran into. He was rewarded with the quiet noise of a violin as he approached the door to the room. </p><p> </p><p>Most everyone in the palace knew of the South Wing, the gigantic room with massive floor to ceiling windows and an incredibly expensive piano in the center. </p><p> </p><p>The sound was muffled as Phil gently turned the handle, realizing that the walls must’ve had some sound-cancelling materials in them. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily the door didn’t make much noise as he slowly pushed it open, hoping that he wouldn’t disturb Techno if it really was him in there. It didn’t as Phil crept into the room, appreciating the soft, blue glow from the moon and stars that covered the whole room. </p><p> </p><p>None of the sconces lining the walls were lit, lending the room an eerie glow from only the natural night ambiance. </p><p> </p><p>Sitting in a single chair in the center of the room was Techno, holding a violin on his shoulder and gently running the bow over its strings. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t any song Phil knew, though he kept trying to analyze it until he realized that Techno wasn’t playing a song. He was just playing notes, going wherever his mind took him next. </p><p> </p><p>There was something incredibly personal to the music, as Phil realized that the Prince was probably just playing to his intuition. Techno would correct himself every once and a while, switching up a note here and there to make it sound better, but the inherent feeling was there. Phil could hear emotions in the simple melodies. This was the song of someone viscerally expressing something they could never say with words. </p><p> </p><p>Long, agonizing tones rang through the room, resonating with Phil’s very soul. He could feel it in his chest, something- a pull, a pain, he wasn’t sure- but it was there.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment Phil felt like he was intruding on something sacred, but steeled himself. If he was to be Techno’s advisor, he would need to understand this side to the Prince as well. </p><p> </p><p>As Phil moved closer, he saw that Techno’s eyes were closed as he gently swayed to the notes. The blue light from the windows lit up his face with an almost ghostly light, shining through his hair as well, making him look as if he had a halo. </p><p> </p><p>The blue light also covered the lacquer finish of the violin and bow, making it look like Techno was playing something made of pure radiance rather than wood. Overall, it gave the performance an almost holy appearance like he was watching a god play music rather than just a boy. </p><p> </p><p>Phil felt the wind be knocked out of him as he realized that all the notes Techno was playing were in minor keys. It sounded like screaming- or even crying. </p><p> </p><p>Techno moved with the waves of the music in gentle sways. Slowly to the right. Slowly to the left. Back and forth in a very human rhythm. </p><p> </p><p>His face was completely blank like it had been while first fighting Phil all those days ago. He was somewhere else. </p><p> </p><p>Phil opted to move over to one of the loveseats by the windows directly in front of Techno and sat down, planning on waiting until Techno finished to reveal his own presence. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure how long it took- whether hours or minutes- however, the time never felt wasted as Phil just listened to Techno play. </p><p> </p><p>It was never skillful, never that of a prodigy, but it still managed to leave its single audience member breathless. </p><p> </p><p>By the time Techno finished, the lights from the windows had moved across the floor so that now Phil was the one haloed by blue. </p><p> </p><p>A deep sigh escaped Techno as the bow fell to his side in a very relaxed, almost resigned, gesture. </p><p> </p><p>Techno opened his eyes slowly. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno just blinked at him. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Phil began. “I was told I could find you here and wanted to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>A voice that seemed to rumble like a thundercloud answered, “you… wanted to talk to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah. We’re going to be working together, and I’ve never really gotten to know you, so I thought- I don’t know- maybe we could become friends?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno stood, facing away from Phil and began to put his violin away in a case sitting by the chair. “I don’t-” he stopped, a sigh, “I don’t really have friends. You can’t really, not as a ty- a ruler.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil laughed, “by the gods, who told you that? You’ve got to have <em> someone </em> you can trust. Your Dad’s got my Dad, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno shut the case abruptly; Phil wondered what he had said to provoke such a reaction. A moment passed and he seemed to relax, turning to face Phil again. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he said softly, “I suppose he does.”</p><p> </p><p>“So I was thinking, I could be <em> your</em> Stephanos. I could help you with… things and you could lean on me if you needed something-”</p><p> </p><p>“Look, if someone asked you to do this, I really don’t need anyone, I don’t want to bother-”</p><p> </p><p>Phil’s eyes widened, “you’re not <em> bothering </em> me. I’m the one who- I asked. Techno,” the other reacted to his name, but Phil wasn’t sure with what emotion, “I’m doing this for you. I think you’re amazing and I’d like to get to know you better than I do now.” He took a step closer, “we’re family.”</p><p> </p><p>“Family,” Techno repeated dubiously. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Phil said firmly, “I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you. If you’d just let me…”</p><p> </p><p>There was a long pause.</p><p> </p><p>Techno finally turned a defeated gaze to Phil, “fine, we can… <em> get to know each other</em>. But family? Friends? Let’s just start with acquaintances.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is good enough for me,” Phil said with a laugh. “I can’t wait! We can go riding together and hunt- or sneakily steal some pastries from the kitchens! Maybe cause a little chaos? Hm? The important part is we get to do it together!”</p><p> </p><p>Techno smiled slightly, a sort of worried amusement expressed on his face, “that sounds… nice.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil came by his side and wrapped an arm around Techno’s shoulders. He didn’t notice how Techno tensed at the touch, nor did he notice how the other seemed to almost lean into it. “We’re gonna be best friends.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno raised his eyebrows, his eyes shining mischievously, “sure, Φιλό-ζῳος.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Coward.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” Phil shouted with mock offense as Techno laughed. </p><p> </p><p>Techno pulled away from Phil and, moving back over to his violin case, picked it up. Heading for the door, he turned back and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil smiled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>For the first time, Techno fell asleep that night wanting to wake up in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Greek Glossary:<br/>Ἀρχή - (Arche) beginning, leadership, power, government, empire [the King’s title, often addressed as Arch or Archie by his close companions]<br/>Κριτής - (Krites) judge [the Queen’s title, often just called Kris]<br/>Τέχνη - (Techne) art, skill, artifice, cunning, trick [Techno’s title]<br/>Τέχνηκa - a form of Τέχνη, the -κa is a diminutive ending. Imply “my little [blank]”<br/>Στέφανος - (Stephanos) wreath, crown [the king’s younger brother’s title, usually called Stephanos]<br/>Ἀγαθή - (Agathe) good, proper, useful, brave, noble [Agatha’s title]<br/>Φιλοκίνδυνος - (Philokindunos) daring, brave, literally: “lover of danger” [Phil’s title, called Phillip (usually by his parents) or Phil]<br/>Ξίφος - (Xiphos) sword [another insulting nickname given to Techno by his father]<br/>ναί - (nai) yes<br/>ἀρεστός - (arestos) acceptable<br/>Ἀστήρ - (Aster) star [the king’s maid’s title]<br/>βάλλ' εἰς κόρακας - (ball’ eis korakas) go to the crows, basically: ‘go to hell’<br/>Φιλό-ζῳος - (Philo-dzoios) coward, literally: “lover of animals/lover of one’s life” [a mocking play on Phil’s actual tite as they both start with the philo- prefix]</p><p>Woah. Long glossary this time :O<br/>Can you tell how much I love ancient Greek?</p><p>Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first look at Phil and Techno!<br/>You may have noticed this chapter is only a pt.1!<br/>Here’s next chapter title: aubade (pt. 2)<br/>[not sure when it'll be released]</p><p>also, I did more work this week on the outline and I now have a solid total number of chapters for this fic. There'll be 20 of them, detailing Techno and Phil's journey (plus Wilbur's and slightly Tommy's as soon as we get to them. It will happen eventually, I promise!) all the way up to the start of SMP Earth in this timeline (SMP Earth's story will be covered in the other fic)</p><p>Kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks are always appreciated, y’all are amazing people! I’d love to hear what you think about this chapter, I gladly welcome all comments no matter how short or long</p><p>Be safe and take care of yourself!<br/>Tuli &lt;3</p>
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